


Animals

by hongbab



Category: VIXX
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9778658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongbab/pseuds/hongbab
Summary: “You’re almost dead, Taekwoon,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Taekwoon's shoulder. “Have at least one happy memory to take to hell with you.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: sorta almost dubcon idk, homophobia!!!, mention of mental disorders (not specified) and possibly drugs (depends on how you interpret stuff)
> 
> This story is based on the short film [We Are Animals](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMOx-0HXu_E&feature=youtu.be). (I guess it's not impossible to figure out what is going on without watching it, but it is strongly recommended so you can understand the setting.)
> 
> Recommended song: your favourite sad songs (and Beautiful Liar!)

His hands are trembling on the cap as he unscrews it, pouring a handful of the pills into his palm, eyes fixated on them. He lifts the entire bunch to his lips but thinks better of it, and swallows only two, gulping down the drug. His breathing gets more even, and he closes his eyes, throwing his head back against the dirty wall of the bathroom.

It gets better for a few minutes, it always does—Taekwoon stretches out his legs on the floor, inhaling the stuffy air as deeply as he can. The urge dies down in his mind—he doesn’t even know what turned him on in the first place; thank God he managed to take the pills before getting hard. If anybody in here found out—

Then the side-effects come.

He suppresses a cry when the pain shoots into his head (he’s sure this is what a stroke feels like), sweat trickling down his temple, dampening his hair. It feels like his entire body is burning up, he’s not sure it isn’t. No one really knows what exactly is in the pills, and Taekwoon doesn’t even care as long as they keep him from feeling things, desiring things, needing things. It’s just hard to live with the seizures he gets from the medicine.

He grabs the edge of a sink, pulling himself up from the floor, looking into the mirror despite his vision being so fuzzy he can barely make out his own silhouette. His black hair sticks to his forehead, cheeks flaming red, eyes narrowed in an attempt to see. He wipes at his sweaty face with his hands.

He stumbles out of the bathroom with his hand on the wall, towards the counter at the end of the corridor. Someone reaches out a file for him, a doctor, probably, judging by his white cloak, the only thing Taekwoon's hazy mind can really take in.

“Go check him before the test,” the doctor says, patting Taekwoon's shoulder before leaving.

Of course he would be the one to check subject #548493, that one crazy man on the second floor, it’s nearly always him. No one gives a fuck about his condition—people walk around with green complexion in this place all the time from the medicine, but it’s only doctors that get to lie down until they get better if they have any kind of problem, never the nurses who are easily replaced if a subject happens to attack them while they’re weak. Being sent into #548493’s room in this state is something Taekwoon has tried to avoid since the guy got in.

As he takes the stairs leading to the second floor, his sweating becomes less intense, his trembling subsiding. His vision is still fuzzy and he tries to chase the thing away with a shake of his head, his brain feeling like it sways from left to right inside his skull.

The screams of the subjects held behind bars is horrible—something Taekwoon has never been able to get over. They’re yelling awful things about throwing over the government, killing each of the doctors, disembowelling all the nurses, cutting their throats, burning their flesh, snapping their spines. They’re desperate; some of them are crying, some of them are laughing maniacally, but they’re all scared to the same extent. The sounds claw at Taekwoon's eardrums and his heart, even if he knows they shouldn’t.

The door to subject #548493’s room doesn’t block out the sounds, but it blocks out the view on the corridor which is not much, but it’s something. Before Taekwoon could say anything, the young man sitting in the corner and facing the wall says, “I didn’t ask for room service.”

“I need to examine you,” Taekwoon replies.

“Taekwoonie?” #548493, or Jaehwan, as he demands Taekwoon to call him, turns around, standing up from the grimy tiles. His smile is wide—just as white and sweet as it was all those months ago when he was taken in, even if his face has become so thin all the muscles and bones poke through his skin. “Long time no see, darling,” Jaehwan coos, walking towards Taekwoon.

“You’ll be sent for a test later this afternoon,” Taekwoon says, trying to read more of that statement on the report, shutting his eyes and shaking his head again. When he looks up, Jaehwan is already standing in front of him, the light of his eyes feverish. “I need to take your temperature.”

“You can take it,” Jaehwan says, his fingers fiddling with Taekwoon's free ones. Jaehwan pushes his grown out, faded copper coloured fringe back from his forehead, lifting Taekwoon's hand to it, pressing it onto his skin. “I’m burning up, aren’t I?”

“You do feel warm, yes,” Taekwoon replies, pulling his hand out of Jaehwan's grip, earning a chuckle for it. “But I will have to take it with the thermometer as well. Open your mouth.”

Jaehwan obeys, keeping his eyes on Taekwoon's face while he opens his mouth bigger than necessary, swirling his tongue around the thermometer. Taekwoon has seen him do this so many times, but he’s never managed to get unaffected by it; how Jaehwan, a subject held separate from others due to severe mental disorders, can keep a straight face while teasing Taekwoon, trying to trigger him. If anyone, Taekwoon is the one going insane from all the disgusting pictures Jaehwan's behaviour evokes in his mind.

“You have a mild fever,” Taekwoon mumbles, checking the thermometer before putting it back into his pocket.

Taekwoon steps to the sink (the porcelain cracked, the cheap metal tap rusty), taking the plastic cup from its edge to fill it with water so Jaehwan can take the antipyretic.

“Taekwoonie,” Jaehwan calls in his honey-voice, and before Taekwoon could turn around, he feels two frail arms around his torso, a rapid heartbeat echoing inside his body as Jaehwan presses up against him from behind. He freezes up, the plastic cup dropping back into the sink, clattering loudly. Jaehwan giggles. “You’re so cute to think I don’t know how you feel.”

“Let go,” Taekwoon breathes, shaking his head again, but his sight is still bad. The trembling has returned, too, making his hands weak when he wants to peel Jaehwan's fingers off him.

“The pills are killing you,” Jaehwan says cheerfully, his pointy chin meeting the top of Taekwoon's spine. “Don’t you want to experience how it feels to be free just once before you collapse for good?”

“Let go of me,” Taekwoon replies, his voice strangled.

“Come on,” Jaehwan laughs, bringing his hands down on the front of Taekwoon's trousers, making Taekwoon gasp. “You can’t hide it forever.”

“I’m not— I’m not gay.”

“Not a good liar, either,” Jaehwan says, pressing a kiss to the nape of Taekwoon's neck. Taekwoon's brain reacts to it with a quick turn of his body, grabbing Jaehwan's shoulders and pushing him up against the wall. The wind apparently gets knocked out of Jaehwan and he seems frightened for a moment, but then he smiles again, warm and inviting as always.

“Stop touching me,” Taekwoon almost growls.

Jaehwan bites into the air, laughing at his own joke afterwards. His fingers are ghosting around the hem of Taekwoon's shirt before they creep under it, goosebumps growing in their wake on Taekwoon's stomach.

“Why pretend, Taekwoon?” Jaehwan asks, staring at Taekwoon's lips, licking his own. “Do you need my word that I won’t tell anybody? If that’s all—”

“I’m not gay!” Taekwoon yells, smashing Jaehwan against the wall. His headache is getting worse and his eyes are betraying him, his mind unable to will his body to calm down anymore.

“Whatever you say,” Jaehwan shrugs with Taekwoon's hands on his narrow shoulders. “But you’re hard and I was the one who made you so.  I can also be the one who takes care of it.”

Taekwoon releases Jaehwan, burying his fingers into his own hair, pulling at it, trying to hide behind his arms, groaning with the effort to normalize his breathing. Jaehwan's fingers slip out from under his shirt, his chuckles echoing in Taekwoon's mind like a crow’s cawing. Jaehwan tucks a sweaty lock behind Taekwoon's ear, gently kissing the shell of it.

“You’re almost dead, Taekwoon,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Taekwoon's shoulder. “Have at least one happy memory to take to hell with you.”

Taekwoon's nails are tearing at his scalp—he can feel the skin giving in. He slowly lowers his arms, looking at Jaehwan through tears of fury, glancing down at his lips. It’s wrong, it’s sick, it’s a disease.

He feels it, he desires it, he needs it.

He cups the back of Jaehwan's neck, pulling him close until the sides of their noses touch, heaving with the last bits of his willpower dissipating. Jaehwan wraps his arms around his waist, kissing him softly.

“I don’t want to do this,” Taekwoon sighs, pulling away, his fingertips pressing into Jaehwan's neck as much as they can. “I don’t want to do this,” he repeats, leaning back in, kissing Jaehwan a lot harder, forcing his tongue past the other’s lips.

Jaehwan helps him out of his shirt, nearly tearing off his own, throwing them both on the floor before he places a hand on Taekwoon's chest, guiding him to the piece of five inch thick foam rubber covered in a yellowed sheet—the thing Jaehwan sleeps on. He pushes Taekwoon down on it, straddling his hips, and bending over to kiss his neck and bite his throat while Taekwoon grabs his bony hips, hands sliding up to touch the sharp lines of his ribs. When Jaehwan scoots lower so he can nip at Taekwoon's chest, sucking hickeys into his skin, Taekwoon arches up, the moan that leaves his mouth surprising him. The way Jaehwan grinds against him sends his head spinning and makes his joints ache, makes him want to tear at his own skin.

“Don’t do that, darling,” Jaehwan whispers against his shoulder, taking Taekwoon's hand off his mouth, examining the deep bite mark on the back of it. “There’s nothing you could lose anymore. Give it your all.”

He kisses Taekwoon, and his dry lips taste like the juiciest of fruits, making Taekwoon crave more, urging him to sink his teeth into them, swallowing Jaehwan's broken exhales.

Jaehwan gets rid of their trousers and Taekwoon's underwear, he himself not blessed with the luxury of possessing one. He didn’t deserve it. He’s just a test subject.

Taekwoon instinctively bends his knees at the foreign feeling of Jaehwan's lips around him, crying out at the contact. He’s fully hard, but _it shouldn’t be like that_ , the pills should last, they should work, they’ve always worked— right after the seizure-like side-effects they calmed him down— he knew something was wrong with him but not this much, please, not this much— are they just placebo, are the side-effects the thing that turn him off, has he been swallowing poison without that doing anything positive to him?

Jaehwan's teeth grazing his inner thigh makes him reach out and run his fingers through his hair, at which Jaehwan lets out a keening sound. Taekwoon looks down at him, seeing Jaehwan work himself open as he clutches onto Taekwoon's thigh, his entire tiny figure shaking and the prettiest blush blossoming on his pale cheeks. Jaehwan bites his lower lip, climbing back up between Taekwoon's legs, supporting himself on his hands and knees when he bends over to kiss Taekwoon.

When their eyes meet, Taekwoon sees the reflection of his own irises shine in Jaehwan's, sees the sanity behind Jaehwan's laughs and smiles and teasing words, but most importantly, he sees himself in those eyes: all his twisted thoughts and feelings, everything he’s always wanted, everything he needed to be able to function perfectly.

Jaehwan is trembling in his hold, trying to adjust, enduring the pain while Taekwoon draws patterns on his back and caresses the line of his spine, his fingers jumping up and down on the prominent vertebrae. Jaehwan's breath is warm on the side of his neck, his tender kisses probably serving to calm him more than Taekwoon. He pushes himself up some minutes later, his fingers splayed out on Taekwoon's chest as he lifts up from Taekwoon's lap, throwing his head back and sinking down. Taekwoon lets out a groan, his head throbbing and his stomach burning when Jaehwan starts building a rhythm, his fingernails biting into Taekwoon's skin.

Jaehwan is beautiful. From his closed eyes, pretty nose and cherry red lips to the line of his throat, fragile-looking clavicles and smooth tummy—he’s the broken sort of gorgeous that gnaws at Taekwoon's insides. He doesn’t know how he could resist him for so long.

Jaehwan's breathing is getting as laboured as Taekwoon's, and he bends over, his chest touching with Taekwoon's with every inhale. He mouths over Taekwoon's jaw, biting just a little, kissing him sloppily on the mouth. There’s nearly no strength in Taekwoon's thighs as he cants his hips up, meeting Jaehwan's moves until Jaehwan is fumbling for his hand on his own waist, bringing it down to his cock and wrapping Taekwoon's fingers around it, helping Taekwoon jerk him as he bites down on Taekwoon's collarbone, his moans slipping past his lips anyway.

Just a second before he would come, Jaehwan presses his lips against Taekwoon's, breathing into Taekwoon's mouth, letting him stifle his sobs. Taekwoon holds him strong with one arm, his other hand tangling into Jaehwan's curly, wet locks, reaching his orgasm a couple of thrusts later. His voice is hoarse and his throat is dry, his entire body twitching with aftershocks.

Jaehwan pulls back to look into his eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” Taekwoon says what has been on the tip of his tongue for so long. He brushes Jaehwan's fringe out of his eyes.

Jaehwan smiles at him and kisses him slowly, torturously gently.

Taekwoon shivers as he leans against the cold wall with his bare back, gathering Jaehwan in his arms, pecking his temple.

“What are you doing?” Jaehwan asks with a giggle. It sounds less insane and more endearing now, but Taekwoon isn’t sure it’s Jaehwan altering it.

Taekwoon can hear the screams and cries from the corridor again. He can hear the threats and promises, and then he hears the doctors’ voice, too. He rests his forehead against Jaehwan's head, taking a deep breath, trying to suck in everything Jaehwan so he will have at least one happy memory to take to hell with him.

“I’m waiting for the bullets,” he replies, smiling, and the door gets kicked open by the doctors.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to talk to me about any of my stories or just vixx in general on [tumblr](http://hongbab.tumblr.com/), [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/hongbab) or [aff](http://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/1061753) ♡ please support me on [ko-fi.com](https://ko-fi.com/hongbab) if you can ♡


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